Wicked Chains

Chapter Seven: Tension and Temptation

Auratrix woke to the delicious ache of muscles well-used and the heady memory of rope around her wrists. She stretched languidly, aware of every inch of bare skin pressed against Chance’s hard body. The morning light spilled across his chest, highlighting tattoos and the fine sheen of sweat lingering on his skin. For a moment, she just watched him, his jaw shadowed with stubble, lips parted in sleep, one arm slung heavily around her waist as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

She traced her fingertips over his chest, and he stirred immediately, pulling her closer, his palm splaying possessively over the small of her back. His hips pressed forward, and she felt the unmistakable hardness of his desire against her thigh. “You’re awake,” he rumbled, voice thick and rough, eyes still half-lidded with sleep but burning with hunger.

“Mmm,” she teased, wriggling against him, “couldn’t sleep with you wrapped around me like a vice.”

He grinned, burying his face in the crook of her neck, nipping her gently until she gasped. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

She shivered, remembering his hands pinning her wrists, his voice commanding her to surrender, the way he’d made her beg for release. Heat coiled in her belly all over again. “Maybe I didn’t,” she whispered, tilting her head to offer more skin.

Chance’s hand gripped her jaw, turning her face to meet his. “You want more?” he growled, eyes dark with promise.

She licked her lips, breathless. “Yes. Please.”

He rolled on top of her in one smooth movement, pinning her arms above her head with a single hand. His body pressed her into the mattress, solid and unyielding, and she reveled in the delicious helplessness. His mouth found hers, hungry and rough, tongue demanding entrance. She gave in, moaning as he devoured her.

“Keep your hands up,” he ordered. She obeyed instantly, the command sending a rush of heat through her. His free hand slid down her side, teasing the curve of her breast, pinching her n****e until she whimpered. “You’re so responsive, angel. So damn eager for me.”

He kissed his way down her neck, biting and soothing, leaving a trail of sensation that only made her writhe harder. She arched her back, desperate for more, but he only laughed—a low, dangerous sound. “Patience,” he warned. “You know I like to take my time.”

She whimpered when his mouth closed over a n****e, his tongue circling and sucking until she thought she might combust. He released her wrists long enough to grab the scarf she’d left on the nightstand, expertly tying her hands together above her head and anchoring them to the headboard.

“You remember the rules?” he asked, voice dark silk.

“Red to stop, yellow to slow,” she whispered, eyes wide and trusting.

“Good girl.” The words made her tremble. He trailed his hand lower, teasing her inner thigh, not touching where she needed him most. She tried to squirm, but the restraint forced her to stay open, vulnerable, exposed.

He spread her legs, settling between them, and ran a finger through her slick heat. “So wet for me already,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You love being tied up, don’t you?”

She moaned, nodding helplessly. He slid a finger inside her, then another, working her with skilled, relentless strokes. His mouth found her breast again, biting and licking, while his thumb pressed circles against her c**t.

She cried out, arching into his hand, but he withdrew suddenly, grinning when she whined in protest. “You don’t get to come until I say so, angel.”

“Chance,” she begged, breathless and desperate.

He moved down, mouth hot and wicked between her thighs. “Say my name,” he commanded, tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh.

“Chance… please, Chance,” she gasped, writhing against her bonds. He rewarded her with the full force of his tongue and fingers, driving her higher and higher until her vision blurred and her body trembled with need.

At the very brink, he stopped again, drawing a long, desperate moan from her lips. He crawled back up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He pressed the head of his c**k against her entrance, holding her gaze hostage. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Chance. Only you.”

“That’s right, angel.” With one powerful thrust, he filled her, claiming her all over again. She shattered, his name a prayer on her lips, and he followed her over the edge, growling her name like a possessive vow.

He untied her gently, kissing the red marks on her wrists, whispering praises as he pulled her into his arms. For a long moment, they lay together, tangled and spent, the world outside their door forgotten.

But as their breathing slowed and the sun climbed higher, the shadows of the past crept closer, threatening everything they’d built in the cocoon of the night.